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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25387096">Dreaming Of Endless Landscapes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachGlitch/pseuds/PeachGlitch'>PeachGlitch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dracula (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood Drinking, Canon Dialogue, Enemies, Episode Two: Blood Vessel, F/M, Feelings Realization, Missing Scene, Regret, Unresolved Tension, slight AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:55:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,349</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25387096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachGlitch/pseuds/PeachGlitch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dracula muses over his greatest adversary.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dreaming Of Endless Landscapes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was something to be said about Agatha’s persistence. It both irked and fascinated him. Over the decades countless mortals had tried to destroy him, but no one ever came as close as her. Even now, as he had her helpless, and dying, she still proved to be quite the challenge. </p><p>Sometimes when he would return to the cabin to feed upon her exquisite blood, he’d find her not quite as he had left her. It was always subtle, because even she could not defeat the after affect of his bite. But somehow she would be positioned slightly different than before he left her. As if she had tried, in vain, to move and free herself. He’d chuckle under his breath, and readjust her on the small bed. Once she had even been half slouched off of it. Her little hands hanging limply off the side. Chestnut hair cascading across her sharp features, hiding her face from him. </p><p>Her hair had been a revelation in itself. As soon as she’d been brought here, he’d wasted no time in removing her religious habit. For some reason, ever since their encounter at the nunnery he’d been desperate to see what she was shielding beneath the blue and white fabric. He’d assumed she was a redhead, perhaps dark auburn to be precise. Her fiery disposition eluded to such. Instead he’d been suprised by the sight of long brunette waves. For the briefest of seconds he’d wanted her to open her eyes, just so he could see how piercing her blue eyes would look, in contrast to the dark hues.</p><p>She would never be awake though. He wondered if she was ever fully conscious when she tried to move. The very idea that even in an almost comatose state, she’d found the motivation to attempt escape was something he truly admired. </p><p>He was always excited to sink his teeth into her flesh, indulge in her unique taste and meet her in the dream he’d provided her. It had taken him an age to decide exactly what he wanted to present her. The possibilities had been endless. But a game of chess felt appropriate; even if there was no real challenge. Not because she couldn’t beat him, her blood itself told him she was possibly the most intelligent mortal he’d ever fed on. No, she wouldn’t win, because he would never allow her to.</p><p>And what fun it was to play her, both figuritvly and literally. The way she simultaneously listened to his tale, and moved her pieces on the board was perfect. He’d even made a mental note of how, for lack of a better term, adorable she looked when her brows would knit together as she concentrated. She was far too interested in the game, than to his story. He shouldn’t of been suprised really, she was almost as competitive as him.</p><p>But every game had an end; and unfortunately theirs was no different. He’d wanted to indulge in Agatha for longer, but his ministrations on the ship, meant he’d have to sacrifice his time with her in order to survive. Self preservation was the key to his existence.</p><p>There had been glint in his eyes when he revealed to her she had been loosing from the start. It was smug, arrogant and not dissimilar to the way she had looked at him the the gates of the nunnery. But that felt like a life time ago now. He watched as she frowned as he guided her towards the inevitable truth. She didnt  want to speak the words out loud, he could tell, but she had to know he would not let her shy away from it. He was a sociopath, through and through. He’d made a show of giving her this dream, just to further torture her. This was his revenge for his bruised ego back at the nunnery.</p><p>“Are you drinking my blood?” The question wasn’t really a question. She already knew the answer, he could tell from how fragile she sounded. He should be pleased, and to some extent he was. She was finally at his mercy, and she knew it. And yet, he felt something deep within as she struggled to keep eye contact. Something dangerously close to guilt, but not quite.</p><p>“Agatha.” He spoke her name as if he was trying to comfort her. It almost came out in a sigh, but he quickly collected himself. “You’re exquisite.” He went on, voice now laced with familiar dark intent. “So much insight, wit, learning...<i>wickedness</i> even.” </p><p>He saw her flinch then, and wasn’t sure if it was because of his last adjective, or by the way she’d caught sight of the goblet in his hand again. Either way, he couldn’t help but make a show of dipping his finger into the warm liquid and taunting her further. “One does not rush such a rare vintage. I’ve been making you last.” And then just because he could, he lifted the digit up to his mouth and sucked on her blood right in front of her.</p><p>“It’s m-me. I’m in cabin number nine.” Her voice tremored as she spoke. Her accent coming out thicker, because she was frightened. Everything around them began to dissolve, they both looked up just before they morphed back into reality. The sound of wind engulfing the once silent dream space. Her stepped forward, just so her could feel her warmth, until he was back on the boat.</p><p>He pulled his head away from her neck, though on top of her, he could no longer feel the precious warmth which radiated from her in the dream. For the first time, he could see her try to open her eyes. He praised her for that, and her eyelids began to flutter faster. </p><p> When he moved away from her she groaned. It would almost be erotic, if it wasn’t so macabre. What a waste. He would of enjoyed having her as one of his brides. But his only hope of making it to England in one piece, was to frame her.</p><p>“You really are so very interesting, Agatha. Oh, how I’ll miss you.” He said as he wiped her blood away from his mouth. “But I’m afraid that this is where we will be parting ways.” There was regret  in his voice. She had closed her eyes again, perhaps she was not as physically strong as he thought. Well, she had just spent a long time as his personal lunch box. </p><p>He knew it wouldn’t be long now, the remaining crew and passengers would deecend upon cabin nine and demand answers. He glanced at her, as he readied himself for their imminent arrival. Something came over him then, perhaps it was lust. Or maybe he just enjoyed seeing her helpless. It couldn’t be anything else, he wouldn’t allow himself to ponder over it further. It was dangerous territory. So as he sat next to her hip on the bed, and leant down to cover his lips over hers, and felt, well...<i>something.</i>He pulled back, as if burnt.</p><p>So quickly, that he failed to see her eyes snap open, just as he closed the curtain around the bed.</p><p>It made no difference though, as finally there was loud banging at the door. And he hurried over, composed and ready to save himself, and certify her demise. </p><p>“Gentlemen I’m afraid I took matters into my own hands.” He said as he opened the door. Ignoring and enjoying the way they all seemed to cower. They may not be as stupid as he thought. “Come in.” </p><p>Either way, he would prevail; and anyone who thwarted him would pay the price. Even Agatha, especially Agatha. Regardless of any misplaced feelings. Because a life of meaningless interactions was more appealing than death everlasting.</p><p>Still, he knew he would miss her more than anyone he’d ever encountered the past five hindered years. So perhaps it was for the best she died. The more he dwelled the more attached her would become; in time he would try to forget her for good. He hoped.</p>
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